


A Miracle on Ice

by MissyTheLeast



Series: Dear Rob AU! [8]
Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyTheLeast/pseuds/MissyTheLeast
Summary: Colonel Hogan is an amazing man, but he can't walk on water....can't he?The Allies are moving closer to Germany proper, and Hogan must find a way to get the German guards to cooperate as Klink hands over the camp to the Heroes.  Since nothing is straight-forward at Stalag 13, it will take a miracle!





	

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies to the organizers of the Hogan's Big Bang and to my wonderful artist WhistleWhileYouWork (who is presently going by banemmanan) whose art for this fic is located at http://archiveofourown.org/works/8718823.
> 
> As I am still trying to get past my writer's block, and since the system is about to kick this draft off the system, I am posting this now, and will add an extra chapter as an epilogue, which will bring me to the 10,000 words to fulfill the challenge (months late, but better late than never).

Colonel Hogan is an amazing man; but even he can't walk on water...or can he?

November 30, 1944  
Late evening after moon-set, Guard Barracks 'A'  
Stalag 13

"I saw what I saw, Hummel!  I saw what I saw."  
   
Captain Franz 'Fritz' Gruber was sitting on his bed, still shivering, even though wrapped in several blankets, his nightgown and cap on.  Never a physically imposing man, the former grocer's boy had risen through the ranks by dint of his paperwork, not his martial prowess.  At the moment, he had survived a harrowing day, and he felt as lank as his dark brown hair and as thin as his pencil mustache; all he wanted was to curl up away from the world, not hold an audience!

 

He looked around, almost bewildered; as Klink's adjunct, his rank had merited a semi-private room, complete with double bunk beds, bed side stands and lamps, desk, chair, wardrobe, a tiny stove for heat and little else, (in fact, much like Oberst Hogan's room in the prisoners' barracks, sans stove) and right now, it was filled to bursting with every man who could squeeze in.   
   
Just to hear the tale.  Again.  One more time, from Gruber's mouth.

They had all seen it themselves, of course.  Every one of the 84 German soldiers at Stalag 13 had been there, as well as another 90 Allied prisoners, all in German uniforms, all disguised as Wehrmacht personnel.  Mueller had cracked a joke that was no jest: "Such pitiful disguises!  Why, anyone can see that these are not real; they are better made than ours."

Mueller always joked or sneered when he was nervous or frightened; and the day had proved to be the most nerve-wracking of his life thus far, and not only for him, but for all the Germans in camp.  Which was why, hours later, the men were still trying to come to terms with the events of the day, and the decision they would all have to make come morning.

For now, though, they all wanted to hear the fairy tale made real, one more time.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

November 30, 1944  
Morning roll call, Main Compound  
Stalag 13

 

Kommandant Wilhelm Klink was nervous.  Nothing new about that; 'nervous' was his habitual state of being.  The Allied prisoners were in ranks and rows as normal, and since it was month end, the entire German garrison was set in their own ranks; only those on guard duty were not in neat columns  
   
What was new was the reason he was nervous.  But you could not blame him, not really, he reasoned to himself.  How often does one surrender a command to an opponent?  And how often is it that the 'opponent' was, until that very hour, one's own prisoner?  The last time he'd heard of such a thing, it was during one of the Crusades, between an English Lord and a Turkish Prince...  
   
Klink shook his head to clear it of random thoughts; never mind the ancient past, it was the present that needed attention.  He gulped a deep breath and watched as Schultz made his customary report:  
   
"Herr Kommandant!  All prrrr-res-Sent and account-TED for!"  
   
"Thank you, Schultz.  Please, take your place now."

Schultz saluted and walked over to stand between Captain Dingle and Corporal Langenscheidt.  Klink looked about uncertainly, until his glance rested on Colonel Hogan.  And Hogan smiled at him.  A smile that only Klink could see.  A wash of 'calm' wrapped around the Junker Officer, and he straightened and relaxed as his mind sharpened and his confidence soared.

He could do this.  He could.

One more breath to steady himself, and he began his speech as he had begun most of his talks since he had come to Stalag 13:

"Prisoners!  As I have done from time to time, I bring you news of the war of which you are no longer a part.

"First, for the bad news:  Britain continues to sustain heavy damage from consistent V-2 rocket bombing, and there has been no advance on the Italian front due to poor weather conditions including heavy rains.  Also, I am saddened to report that British Field Marshall Sir John Dill has died of natural causes, but he has been honored by his American friends via burial in the American soldier's cemetery, Arlington."

 

It took Klink's audience a minute to realize something was off about those statements.  The guards began to mumble, a dozen dozen versions of 'was?' hissing about the German rows at attention. The POWs both old and new, had been waiting for this, but surprised at the timing, gave a collective gasp as the Kommandant continued with his report. 

"Now the good news:  Belgium and the Greek mainland have been liberated by the Canadians and the British respectively.  Not for the rest of the Allies to be outdone, Patton has taken Metz and French troops have liberated Strasbourg, while the extreme pressure of the advancing Russian Front has forced der Fuhrer to abandon East Prussia and take refuge in Berlin."

The cheers had started softly with 'mainland' and risen in volume, until the word 'Berlin' was nearly drowned out by the joyous yells.  But before the celebration could gather steam, Hogan whistled and threw his hands up for attention:

"Ok, fellas, pipe down pipe down, Kommandant isn't finished yet.  Sorry Sir, please continue."

"Thank you, Colonel.  This is the latest news that we have been given from various quarters; unfortunately, I have no real news of the Pacific Theater, except that the new B-29 bombers are acquitting themselves well.  However, as soon as we do have news, be sure that we will let everyone know.  
   
"For local news, you should all be aware that I intend to surrender this command to Colonel Hogan officially at noon tomorrow.  We will be hosting the civilian authorities from several local communities and they too, will be surrendering to Colonel Hogan's jurisdiction.  Now, to say a few words in preparation for tomorrow, Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan saluted in response and as Klink returned the military courtesy, the American officer addressed the camp as the Senior Prisoner of War for the last time:

"Guys, this is it, what you've all been waiting for," excited cheers, whoops, backslapping from the Allies, stunned silence from the Germans, and Hogan again putting up his hands, waiting for the men to calm, then continuing, "except not."

Now everyone was quiet.

"You see, I was going to be giving this speech in a few months from now, when the Allies were about a week out from our position.  However, the collapse of Stalag 7 has forced us to use Plan B a lot sooner, which means that we need to be, ahh, 'discreet', shall we say?  For anyone who's confused, speak to your Barracks Chief.  Later.

"Right now, we have to address the German Luftwaffe personnel among us.  I'll be switching to German, so those of you who speak the language well, please feel free to translate for those whose German is a little shaky."     
   
With that, Hogan surprised many by launching into a High German so pure, some thought he was the Kronprinz (and some of the words were lost, when Mueller, ever the wit, blurted out: "The grandson has come back from nutria farming?" and those within earshot burst out laughing):

"Airmen of the Luftwaffe, it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that you are now prisoners of the Allied Forces.  However, unlike Prisoners of War everywhere else, you are all being given a unique opportunity to make a difference, for yourselves and for your country."

Grumbling, an indistinct bass line of sound, rose in the background, but was quelled with a sustained chorus of shushing.   
   
Hogan continued: "If you have not already guessed, this is no ordinary camp.  I will not explain further; either you understand, or you do not.  I will only say that in this case 'ignorance is bliss' and a good deal safer.  If, however, you have seen that Germany under the present government is not the place you grew up in, is not the place you want to continue living in, is not the place that you wish to raise your family in, then we give you a choice:  
   
"Anyone who wishes to join our ranks, to stand up and fight for his country's freedom, will be welcomed.  Anyone who, in good conscience, cannot freely join the Allied cause, will be as free as possible under the circumstances and will be treated in full accordance with the Geneva Convention.

"HOWEVER, for the continuing safety of all concerned, no one who is not an experienced operative will be allowed to leave the camp, so normal Christmas leave is suspended.  All requests for leave will be approved by myself only; and yes, in this there will be favoritism, since only people I would trust with my life will be allowed out on their own.  A reasonable precaution, I am sure you will agree..."  At this, some of the shock began to wear off, and a subtle rustle of alarm and anger ran through a sizable section of the Germans.  The stark truth of their situation was sinking in.  
   
'Natives are getting restless', he thought.  So Hogan smiled, ratcheted up his Charm quotient, and added, "Since this is a very important decision, all those who are undeclared in affiliation will be confined to barracks until tomorrow morning at roll call, so you have all day and night to think it over.  At that point..."

...all heck broke loose (not all Hell, mind; the Stalag 13 guards, both as a whole and as individuals, were too middle-class to riot).

A babel of voices rose up, a melee of sound whipping in circles:

"WAS?"  "NEIN!"  "Donnerwetter"  "WIE?"   "Scheisse"  "...das ist unfair!"

"....AT THAT POINT, those of you who choose to join us will be debriefed and assigned positions and duties commensurate with your skills and abilities.  Those of you who do not, will live in Barracks 'A' under house arrest, but think of it more as a vacation, a retreat, where you can relax, play cards, read that novel you've been meaning to get to, whatever you'd like to do, within reason.   
   
"You will be kept as comfortable as possible, treated fully in accordance with the Geneva Convention - and all we ask in return is your cooperation in keeping our little secret and not trying to escape...."

"HA!" shouted Gruber and Mueller together.  Gruber kept shouting: "Why should WE surrender, we are in our own country!  We are loyal German soldiers, and we will not surrender to, to, to,... kriegies!"  The man puffed out his chest in a show of pride, but mostly to keep at bay the rising sense of panic that threatened to make him hyperventilate.

Mueller yelled: "You wish us to sit by on our hands, quiet as mice, while you run the world?"

At this Langenscheidt roared: "What would be the difference?  As if Herr Colonel doesn't already run this camp!"

Then Mueller sarcastically said: "Of course, of course!  We will surrender to your good graces, precisely as you say...when next you walk on water."  A good portion of the camp cheered or jeered, depending on their politics, and Mueller laughed at his own joke.

At this, Hogan tilted his head slightly, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes - a sure sign to the initiated (especially the residents of Barracks Two) that the American Colonel had just gotten an idea: "So you mean to tell me that you'll keep our secrets, cause no trouble and stay put, so long as I walk on water?  Well, Mueller?"    
   
The Luftwaffe lieutenant swallowed hard, not liking where this line of inquiry was going, but unable to back away from his words:  "Jawohl, of course, that is what I said; but you cannot pretend to be a saint?"   
   
"Never said I was -  This alright by you, Gruber?"    
   
"Eh, ehhh, urm..." Gruber stammered.  
   
"So, it's unanimous?  Good!  Meet you all at the front gate at 1900 hours.  Until then, you are dismissed to your barracks."  Hogan saluted smartly, receiving an erratic wave of salutes in return.  The Germans were so confused at this point, they meekly headed to their quarters, not realizing that they were closely watched by the rest of the camp.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

   
Once the Germans were well on their way, Hogan dismissed the rest of the camp with the words: "Fellas, see your barrack chiefs for today's duties; no roll call until evening.  See you all then."

Hogan walked quickly over to Schultz, Langenscheidt and Dingle:  "Schultzie, nearly everyone realizes that if anyone German in the camp is on our side, it must be you; don't bother heading to the barracks; but Langenscheidt, I want you and Dingle to go ahead and stay with the rest.  Tell the others not to reveal themselves yet, especially not the boys.  Whoever stays neutral should know as little as possible, as long as possible.  Let Gruber and Mueller talk, but feel out the undecideds; and remember, the more trustworthy people we can get to join us, the better."

"But, Sir, what will you do this evening?  How are you going to deal with those who will not join us?" asked Dingle

"If what I'm trying pans out, we will have the full cooperation of anybody who sides with Gruber and Mueller.  But I need to make sure that win or lose, we have enough of our people to control the situation.  So Dingle, before you go to your barracks, take Sam and everyone in Barracks 9 to the supply shed, and grab every single uniform in there.  Tell Sam I need to outfit every barracks chief and one additional man from each barrack.  That will give us at least a one-on-one German to Allies ratio.  Counting those already on our side, we'll have enough people to efficiently and above all, quietly, deal with anyone who tries to renege or make a break for it.  Understood?"

"Jawohl, Herr Colonel" answered both soldiers with smart salutes, a heel pivot, and a scurry to the Guards' Barracks (Langenscheidt) and a quick march towards Barrack 9 (Dingle)....

Their enthusiasm made Hogan smile, so with a spring in his step, he walked over to where his command group waited to hear his latest crazy scheme. ...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

"So Colonel, would you mind letting us in on what went on back there?" asked Kinch.  The loyal Chief of Operations raised his trademark eyebrow, smirking all the while: "I mean, you do have a plan, right?"  
   
"O, ye of little faith, of course I have a plan...it may be a little off the wall, but it's a plan."  
   
A gentle groan from one Corporal Newkirk, resident pessimist: "oh, no, not again."  Turning to his French and American brothers-in-arms:  " 'E's gone crackers, he has.  It's finally 'appened.  There'll be a bloody riot when e's done, I guarantee it." 

 

A madly grinning Hogan slung a companionable arm around Newkirk's shoulder: "Now Newkirk, when has it ever not worked?"  
   
" 'Ow 'bout the time when you were trying to get Klink to move the guards and he doubled them instead?  Or the time that we tried to exchange Klink for that rotten Kraut Colonel from the Russian Front?  Or..."  
   
"Fine, there have been little hiccups..."  
   
"Hiccups?  More like bloody Whoopin' Cough!"  
   
Drawing laughs from the others (and a slightly less amused look from his commanding officer), Hogan growled, "Ok, when has it not worked out?  Com' on Newkirk, you know it always does."  
   
"Yeah, but there's always a first time."  
   
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
   
November 30, 1944  
South shore of the River Hammel  
2045 hrs.

 

By 1900 hours, the entire camp was in a frenzy of speculation of what exactly the unpredictable Col. Hogan had in mind.  'Sam' Minsk, Newkirk, LeBeau and the other tailors had managed to outfit 80 POWs, along with the core team, plus Baker, Olsen, O'Brien, Davis and Addison, into all the Luftwaffe uniforms they had on hand.  Boots (or the lack of them) would have been a major set-back, but for the 'accidental' delivery of 500 pairs of boots destined for the Russian Front seven months prior solved that problem beforehand (and there was another story to that!, but well, another time).

 

A Bomber's moon was rising low in the sky by the time the motley group of German and Allied soldiers arrived at their destination.  The American commander, wearing a Luftwaffe General's uniform and coat, escorted by Klink, Schultz and his command group, had quietly instructed the barracks chiefs to allow all the German personnel to walk in front of them, effectively creating a walking corral.  No one, not even Kinch, had known the goal in advance, and Hogan had insisted on walking the entire way, first on the road, and then short cutting through the woods until the group reached the south bank of the River Hammel. Hardly more than a babbling brook half the year, the Autumn rains and snows had filled the riverbed to overflowing, so Hogan called for a halt where the waters had formed a culvert whose leading edge was level with the land.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Looking around to get his bearings, Kinch asked: "Colonel, why this way?  We're in the middle of nowhere, about half way between Hammelburg and Flensheim.  Granted, this river bend is about three miles closer to camp, but the section by the Adolph Hitler Bridge is another four miles closer."

 

"True, but we needed to come this way.  Little Red Riding Hood and the Three Little Pigs left ahead of us, they'll have cut across our march about an hour ago, leading about twenty people along the escape route."

 

"That's a pretty big group at one time."

 

"And with the Gestapo out in force patrolling both sides of the river, and all this snow, brushing out that many tracts would have been difficult, to say the least.  Now..."

 

"Now, we've trampled every single sign.  No way the Gestapo spot 'em."

 

"And our business here shouldn't take long.  We'll be on our way back before the next patrol comes through, so when they run into us, we make 'em turn around.  Maneuvers."

 

"So they leave all of us alone, and none the wiser."  Kinch shook his head in wonder and grinned.  "I've said it before and I'll say it again.  You're a genius, Sir.  A diabolical genius." 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Klink sighed as the group left the trees for the open sward of winter meadow that separated wood from water; in many places the trees grew nearly to the edge of the ravine (created by the annual carving of the lands by flood and thaw) but here, the land sloped gently, the change from grass to grit less abrupt.  It had been many years since the Kommandant had been out at night under the open sky, the world covered in snow and ice, shades of white, gray and black giving the illusion of another world.  The tall evergreens standing guard with their leafless kin on the opposite shore, black against the sugar glitter of snow, here a deep drift, there snow swirled bare to the ground, the river itself silver gray.

 

The River Hammel was picturesque at any time of year; under a Bomber's Moon (full, bright and little to no cloud cover) in winter?  Currier and Ives would have made thousands on the lithograph.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
   
A whisper to Kinch, an order whispered passed on, and the Allies fanned out, surrounding the 'real' Germans, so they had an unobstructed view of the river, but could not retreat without banging into an Allied soldier/airman.  Even more, the 20 or so members of the Underground who were also guards at the camp, spontaneously stationed themselves next to those least likely to agreed with Colonel Hogan, as another layer of protection against any outburst. 

As soon as Hogan saw his men in place (the full Moon on the open shore making that feat easy), the American pitches his voice high and out, and began speaking:  
   
"Gentlemen, as promised, I have brought you here to prove that I am as good as my word, and in the fervent hope that you are all the same....." and he stepped carefully out onto the river....

....which was frozen solid....  
   
and began to walk.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

"No no no!  Not walk.  He sauntered," said Hummel.

 

"Bah!  It was a strut.  Like a peacock," averred Mueller, looking even more dyspeptic than normal.

 

"Absolutely not!" said Dingle with heat, "Herr Colonel strolls when he is at ease.  Not arrogantly, but with pride and confidence."

 

"IF you are all finished?  May I go on with the story?!" Gruber growled in exasperation.

 

Mutters of "sorry", "excuse me", "by all means", circled the room, and with a huff, Gruber went on with the tale.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The American Colonel Hogan began to walk across the frozen river.  And at first, the only sound was that of his footfalls, the soft 'crunch crunch' of the high topped leather boots on the snow-covered ice, ringing loud in the night air.

 

No one, neither Allied nor German, could credit their eyes.  Many in the audience had forgotten to breathe, jaws unhinged, staring in shock, while others blinked in stunned confusion.

 

It was not until Hogan reached the middle of the river, spun on his toes like a dancer to face them all, folded his arms in typical Hogan fashion and smirked: "Well?"

 

It was as if he'd broken the spell - one moment, pure frozen silence; the next?  Chaos.

 

The Americans, especially the Southerners among them, were the first to react.  It started with grins, chuckles, some clapping.  Then the rest of the Allies joined in.  The laughter, whoops and 'hollering'; the backslapping and glad-handing; topped off with an authentic rebel yell (courtesy of Jackson and his best friend, Browne), and it seemed that Hogan's ruse had won the day.

 

Unfortunately, there was a latrine lawyer in the ranks: Mueller.

 

He shouted: "Nein nein!  Das ist nicht richtig!  You cannot fool us this way!"

 

"Who's fooling anyone?  You said that you'd sit back and stay put if I walked on water.  I have.  You never specified that it HAD to be liquid water.  So now put up or shut up, Mueller."

 

"I refuse!  It is a trick, a miserable trick.  Anyone can walk on this water!  Gruber!  Go!  You have seniority, prove that this is a lie!"  Mueller was as besides himself as if he'd been sold a hair growth tonic by a carnival barker and received a hair removal tonic instead.

 

Now all eyes were on Gruber; he could not refuse.

 

Thus, Gruber slowly moved out, slip-sliding at every step, cursing both Mueller and Hogan under his breath.

 

The celebration died down the further out Gruber went.

 

It did not take a genius to see that this venture would turn out badly.

 

It did.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Gruber was within 4 meters or 13 feet of the American officer when he realized that the creaking he was hearing was not his cold joints, but was the ice itself, cracking in protest under his weight.  He tried to step back, when his feet slipped out from underneath, and he fell splat on his back, breaking through and creating a nearly six foot round hole in the ice.

 

It's very important to remember this point.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Gruber wasn't entirely convinced that he'd fallen through - at first, it was as if he had broken through the Looking Glass, the shards bending, folding, stretching to the breaking point and then bowing under his weight, the water beneath pushed away.  Cradled, he looked at the infinite dark and could not decide if he was falling up into the darkness or sinking down into the light.  The water rose, forming a basin around him.

 

It wasn't until the water crashed over him that he realized that there had been no sound for all that time.

 

And as the water embraced him, cold tendrils freezing him in place, he knew that he would never hear anything ever again.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Gruber slowly shook his head; it still pained him to move overmuch.  "What did the rest of you see?"

 

"What did we see? All the same, I suppose," Dingle mused, speaking for the group.  "We saw you move like a child with his first pair of skates, you slipped, feet straight in the air, head on the ground,"

 

"You could hear the ice smash from the shore," added Mueller helpfully.

 

Dingle glared at Mueller and continued: "And you disappeared..."

 

"Like a stone!" Mueller again.

 

Dingle glared harder: "And Herr Colonel saved you."

 

Gruber shook his head and looked at his fellows: "Yes, he did that, and more."

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Gruber felt as if he'd become an Egyptian mummy: wrapped in cold, embalmed in liquid, cursed to watch his life fade.  He was cold, so cold that he couldn't feel his limbs.  So cold that he couldn't move.  So cold that he didn't feel wet.  So cold that he forgot to breathe, then forgot that he couldn't breathe and snorted air out and in without letting in a drop of water.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

"What do you mean by that?" Mueller demanded, insulted that his colleague was making no sense.

 

"I mean what I mean, Mueller!  I suppose that a bit of air was trapped in my nose, and when I breathed out, it was not hard enough to dislodge the bubble, so I breathed the same air back in."

 

Before Mueller could continue to harass him, Gruber added: "Forget that, I can be no clearer.  It was as it was; now be quiet, so I can continue."

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Gruber was becoming confused; it was so quiet.  Peaceful.  He floated more than he sank, but he was sinking all the same.  His Captain's cap (more properly called a cover) was hovering half on half off, his glasses bobbing along the bridge of his nose, but this did not trouble him.  Perhaps it was the water and the ice and the moon, all acting in concert to improve his vision.  

 

Perhaps.

 

No matter.

 

He saw the way the ice glinted against the water and the sky.  He could see the way small pieces were trapped against the edge of the hole his body had created.  He marked how there was nothing beyond the sharp edge of the hole, and how the ice was extremely thin as far as he could see.

 

No one would come for him.

 

It was too dangerous.

 

Besides.  He was not that well liked.  He had no friend who would dare the danger.

 

And even if someone was that foolhardy, they would never reach him in time.

 

Too far.

 

Still.

 

He wished that he did have that one friend who would come for him.

 

He wished.

 

He wished.

 

Thrice, he wished.

 

And as he sank in the water, as the cold sank into him, a voice said: "Third time is the charm.  Be ready to thank him when he is done."

 

Gruber thought nothing of the soft voice (which he could not decide if it was male or female, but more female than male).  His eyes were wide open, his mind had drifted so far, he had ceased to see. Something shook him aware, loosening his arms just enough to reach up and grab what looked like a man embracing him.  
   
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
   
It was a coat. 

A Luftwaffe General's great coat.  
   
Herr Colonel Hogan's coat.  
   
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The coat's arms tangled his; he was uncertain if he could have grasped the material all on his own otherwise. The coat sleeves tightened and pulled him upwards.  

 

Which forced his arms up to their fullest extension....

 

which in turn gave him a perfect view of his rescuer, from below.  
   
Herr Colonel Hogan.

 

He was kneeling, holding the coat in gathers in his hands (Gruber couldn't see it, but Hogan had his fingers in the pockets, using them as hand-holds for leverage).  As Gruber was dragged closer, he noticed the water compress around the Colonel's knees.  Closer still, and he could see the toe of Hogan's left boot digging into the water for traction.  Then, as he was lifted clear of the river, still tangled in the coat, were the American's feet: Hogan's right heel just touching the edge of the broken ice.

 

In other words....

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

.....he was standing and walking backward on pure water," Gruber ended, still marveling on his narrow escape.

 

"Impossible!"  "Ridiculous"  "You have concussion!"  "Hallucinations!"  The comments flew too fast for the groggy Adjunct to match the commentator with the comment.

 

"Captain Gruber, you were half-drowned and freezing," said Dingle kindly, "and your glasses were fogged and frosted.  While I have no doubt of your sincerity,"

 

"But it is true, Dingle, it is true!" Gruber shouted.

 

"I have no doubt of your sincerity," repeated Dingle, a bit more forcefully, "but you do not need to make a greater legend of him.  Herr Colonel is hero enough without the embellishment."  Dingle, while deeply gratified that Gruber appeared to be willing to abide by Mueller's bargain, did not want to create unreasonable expectations for his commanding officer.  No one who is not actually a saint can live up to a miracle worker's reputation. 

 

"Yes, come now, Gruber, you with your glasses askew, you can hardly see your hand before your face.  Surely, you cannot be serious." Hummel, square-jawed and taciturn, seldom spoke more that three words at a time (which made him an excellent Underground agent, since most confuse silence with stupidity).

 

"I saw what I saw, Hummel!  I saw what I saw."

 

"But how could you see anything?  Your glasses," persisted Hummel.

 

"Ja, ja, but they were not compromised when I was in the water, and not for several minutes out of it!  It was only once we were close enough for Kinchloe to carry me, that my glasses became fogged and useless.

 

"And I will tell you more!  I was clinging to Herr Colonel's coat, he doing his best to wrap me in it.  'Gruber' he said, 'you gotta help me out a little here.  Can you get your feet steady, stand up maybe?'  And I tried, I swear, I tried, but I could not!  Do you know why?  Do you?"  Gruber glared at his audience.

 

"I could not stand, because my feet were still in the great hole I created!  Herr Colonel and I were still in the water!  But where my feet would find no purchase, his were as if on firm sand!  I did not have to see to feel that there was nothing beneath me!  Nothing I tell you!"

 

"I believe him!" called a small voice from the opened window (cold or not, there were too many crowded into the room and too many who wished to hear, so the windows were both opened and the smallest guards sat in the openings while the rest stood outside and listened).  The voice belonged to Pvt. Walther Koenig, the youngest soldier at Stalag 13.

 

"Herr Colonel is a great man, the greatest in Germany; even the Gestapo fear him!  Hochstetter says it every time he comes here.  He has cheated the devils of their victims many times.  Why should not the good God hear Herr Colonel's prayers?  He prays all the time.  For our safety.  For all of us to survive this war," the 15 year old stated with absolute conviction.

 

"How in the world do you know this!?" Mueller's shock spoke for all.  That this small teenager knew something so profoundly personal about the secretive Colonel Hogan beggared belief.

 

"Because we pray together, every evening, if it can be managed.  Often, he will be busy and will not have much time, but whenever I am his escort for the night, or after evening roll call, we will take a walk and pray.  He says God will not mind if we are standing or sitting, and not kneeling.  It is what we are saying, what is in our hearts, after all, that is important, he says."

 

Before anyone could add to the conversation, Schultz's powerful voice boomed out:

 

"Raus RAUS ev-er-RE-body raus!  It it bedtime!  Back in the Barracks!  Evvverrrry-body!  Back back back back BACK!"

 

And Schultz began to swing his arms and shoo the lot of them away from the windows and towards the doors. And his German guards reacted exactly the same as his Allied prisoners (who acted exactly the same as his children):

 

"AWWWW!"  "It is too early."  "Come, Schultz! another few minutes." 

 

"Nein nein nein!  Raus mit you.  Schnell and no more whining!  You do not wish for Gruber to get sick after all that Colonel Hogan has done, now do you?  In BED!  All of you!" 

 

So as children everywhere do, in the face of parental intransigence, the grumbling continued, but so did the walking, until those out of doors were indoors of their proper barracks (the men were more or less evenly divided between two long bunk houses).

 

And those indoors settled into their bunks, whispered conversations of "what did YOU decide?" spinning like a roundelay, until the last man drifted off to sleep. 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Before Dingle jumped into the top bunk of the room he shared with Gruber, he checked once more:  "Are you warm enough?  There is more aspirin by the night stand, and you should finish drinking the coffee.  Sergeant Wilson says you must keep hydrated and warm, it is real coffee, a gift from Carter, so drink while it is hot!"

 

Gruber automatically did as he was told; while he loathed being even more in debt to the Americans, he was not an ingrate.  'Besides,' he admitted to himself alone, 'it really is good coffee, it would be a sin to waste it.'

 

He slowly drained the cup, feeling the warmth drive the chill from his chest.  He relaxed, the tasty brew summoning memories of home so pleasant, he slipped into an easy sleep (despite the caffeine).

 

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Schultz was giving his report in Barracks Two to his newly 'official' commanding officer (as far as Schultz was concerned, Colonel Hogan had always been his commanding officer), "...and Dingle is certain that we will add another twenty or so to our group."

 

"Are they all acceptable?  We don't need any informers at this stage of the game," Hogan looked seriously at Schulz, and the large Sergeant of the Guard felt the weight of his commander's trust.

 

Schultz squared his shoulders and sloughed off his bumbling persona and became the successful President and Owner of the largest toy company in Germany: "Yes, Herr Kommandant.  Dingle and Wagner also approve, and we are certain of everyone in camp.  Gruber has been granted a miracle, and the scales have fallen from his eyes; he will not join us directly, but he will not betray you.  Even Bruno and Mueller (whose pride will not let him admit that he has been wrong about the world for much of his life) will cause no trouble now." 

 

Hogan smiled and clapped the fat Sergeant on the shoulder:  "Well done, Schultzie!  I'll be able to sleep tonight, and I want you to get some sleep too.  Big day tomorrow.  The boys from Barracks 12 and 6 will handle night patrol, so you can rest."

 

"Oh, Colonel Hogan!  You are sooo kind!  Thank you," the big man beamed his fond regard for the much younger officer. 

 

"Oh, Schuuultz!  You should thank me too!  I suggested it!" Klink smirked proudly.  But at a simple look from Col. Hogan, Klink deflated and ducked his head in embarrassment, but it quickly bounced up with a more humble grin, pointing upward and shaking his right index finger: "Well, perhaps 'suggested' is a bit much, but I certainly did approve the idea, did I not, Colonel?"

 

"Yes, yes you did."  Another quiet look from Hogan, and Klink's grin grew broader.

 

"Ja, well, I am off to bed!  'Wiedersehen!  Guten Nacht, boys," Schultz waggled his fingers at the group and was about to leave, when he heard:

 

"Ahem!  Schultz, aren't you forgetting something?" Klink looked nervously at Hogan and began to babble:  "I realize that things will be different, and that I will no longer be the Kommandant, and that I am much further down the chain of command, but I will still need to be shown the deference of my rank, at least from those in German uniform.  Outsiders like Hochstetter will become suspicious if normal protocol is not followed," was the timid explanation.

 

"He's right, Colonel," said Kinch, "we can't afford for anyone to wonder what's going on, if everybody forgets to salute the Kommandant."

 

"Kinch is right, Sir," chimed in Carter, "after all, that's how you figured out that Kraut pretending to be Captain Morris.  Remember?  The guy who saluted the fake Morris, just like he was still in his Kraut uniform?"

 

Hogan weighed his men and their advice: Carter was eager, Kinch was shrewd and poor Klink was proud to have been considered right twice in a row.  A sharp nod, and the American Colonel agreed:  "Men, you're right, one and all.  Schultzie, make sure that word gets around; Klink gets treated the way he's always been treated, especially by anyone pretending to be German,  Got it?"

 

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!"  A salute to Colonel Hogan, and then, "Entschuldigen, Herr Oberst Klink, Guten Nacht and a verrrr-ry pleasant evening!" another salute specifically for Klink, and Schultz was off.

 

As the door closed behind Schultz, Hogan turned to the remaining men:  "Before we all turn in, I want to commend everyone for keeping their heads and backing me up.  It was a little touch and go there, and your support made the difference.  I'm not sure that we both would have made it back without you all meeting me half way."

 

"I speak for all of us, Colonel," said Kinch, "glad we could help."  

 

The look of sheer pride in Hogan's eyes said more than words ever could.  A simple nod: "Good night, fellas, Kommandant," and a salute, and Hogan softly closes the door to his room.

 

"To bed then, gentlemen!  Tomorrow is a great day," Klink was preening fit to burst, and for once, the denizens of Barracks Two felt that he was entitled to a pat on the back.  So they respectfully replied as one: "Yes, Sir!" saluted and started to bed down.

 

Kinch lightly tapped Klink's arm: "Sir, will you need an escort back to the Kommandantur?"

 

"No, but a word, please?" They moved over to the table, to the end closest to the fake bunk:  "What can I do for you, Kommandant?"

 

"Nothing really, but I wanted to thank you for for taking charge this evening.  I must confess, I might not have been able to save him, them, I mean."

 

"Sir, I beg to differ, but you were all ready to run out and help.  If we did have rope, that would have worked too."

 

"But we did not have any rope, and I wasted time shouting at Schultz to find some.  No, it was your quick thinking that saved them."

 

Kinch smiled at that, and said: "Well, it doesn't really matter whose idea it was; we all helped, and we got them both back, safe and sound."

 

"Yes, of course, you are right," nodded Klink wisely, "still, thanks are in order."

 

"Then, I'll say 'you're welcome'.  Now, we'd best follow our own order and turn in for the night.  Busy day."

 

"Yes yes, good night Sergeant Kinchloe." 

 

"Guten Abend, Kommandant Klink."

 

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In his bunk, Hogan was slowly trying to get warm in the freezing room, as he shed the worries of the day and allowed 'the Colonel' to fade away into plain ol' 'Rob'.   

 

He closed his eyes and drifted off, the River rising through the mists in his mind, and he was back on the ice under the swell of the Moon, struggling with a very floppy Gruber....

 

He saw everything as if from a height, hovering over himself and the hole where the Adjunct had just disappeared.  He'd had no time for thought; he'd whipped off his great coat and ran the several feet forward, cursing himself for being a fool and a show-off - 

 

'Great going Rob, attaboy, just walk out to the middle of the river, don't stop 12 yards out, go for 40!  Now Gruber's gonna drown, all because you're both too far out to be rescued'  

 

\- when he'd tossed the coat like a net, sleeves down and trailing into the water.

 

'Please Lord, please, let him be able to grab the coat.  Please, I don't know if I'll have the strength to go in after him, please Lord, please Lord, let him grab the coat.'  

 

"Please Gruber, just grab the coat," Hogan shouted.

 

"Third time's the charm, Robert." said the old woman with the horse-like face, wrapped in shawls, layers of heavy peasant skirts, a high bonnet and wooden clogs who suddenly appeared on the ice.

 

Hogan was not surprised to see her, only relieved.

 

"Holle, thank God!  Hilf mir, Bitte."

 

'Help you?  My dear, you have no need, the deed is done, the prize won.  See?  He's already in your arms."  Up comes Gruber, as if he'd been hooked on Hogan's pole.

 

Rob was now wrestling with a near unconscious Gruber, and he growled out: "You wouldn't have a fire up your sleeves, or at least some smelling salts?"  All he received in respond was a merry cackle on the night breeze.

 

"Women," with a shake of his head, he addressed the half awake Captain: 

 

"Gruber, you gotta help me out a little here.  Can you get your feet steady, stand up maybe?'

 

Poor Gruber did his best, but for some reason, instead of standing, he kept splashing.

 

"Ok, we'll do this the other way.  Take it easy, Gruber, Fritz, I've gotcha."  Rob saw himself half drag, half carry Gruber back the way he'd come, until they met Kinch at the head of a daisy chain of men, linked hands stretching back to solid ground.

 

"Kinch, here, take him."  And Kinch does.

 

He can breathe again, Gruber will be alright.  Rob bends down, his hands on his knees, breathing deep.

 

"Hogan, are you alright?" Klink (as usual) is worried, laying a hand on Rob's arm.

 

"Peachy, Sir.  Let's get back to camp.  Langenscheidt?"  Rob straightened up, "You and Ziggy and Richie run back to camp and bring a truck each.  Meet us at the cutoff for the logging road, the sooner we get Gruber back to camp the better.  The rest of you, keep walking!  The boys will be able to make two trips a piece, so even if some have to walk further, no one will walk the entire way back."

 

Even Mueller could find no fault with this arrangement, so with minimal grumbling, the group marched smartly back, many looking sidelong at both Hogan and Gruber.

 

Rob's last thought as sleep swept him out of the woods of Germany - 'Thank you, Lord.  Safe for another day.'

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

December 1, 1944

Morning roll call, Main Compound  
Stalag 13

Klink walked out of the Kommandantur and looked out over the rows of Allied men.  They were all dressed in their best (for most, however poor that was) and were groomed to military standards.  Even Newkirk had trimmed his sideburns to regulation length.   

Klink looked out over the rows of German guards.  THEY were all dressed in their best, half of the men looked excited, the other half, nervous.  'They all look as if it's their first day of Gymnasium,' Klink mused to himself.    
   
A gentle nudge broke his reverie; Hogan was behind him, looking to move ahead and Klink realized that he wasn't sure what to do next.

 

As usual, Hogan knew:  "You stay by me Kommandant," and with an encouraging nod, they both went down the stairs together.

 

Schultz approached the pair and saluted:  "Herr Kommandant Hogan, Herr Oberst Klink, I beg to report, all pre-SENT and accoun-TED for!"

 

"Good job Schultz!  Kommandant, if I may start?"

 

"Certainly, Colonel," the relief in Klink's voice clear.

 

"Men, it's time to decide.  And to make it easier, will all those currently members of our little group, please step forward and make yourselves known."

 

"Wait wait wait!  Will there be no great speech?  No lecture?  No discourse on the superiority of the Allies?  No propaganda to convince us of the justice of your cause?" Mueller, of course, confused and a bit insulted that no one was going to try and curry their collective favor.

 

"Nope.  If you aren't convinced by now, nothing I can say will make any difference.  So long as you keep your word, I'll keep mine."

 

Mueller subsided, stunned that any officer would bypass the chance to harangue his inferiors.  

 

Seeing that there would be no more interruptions, 20 guards stepped out of the ranks and walked over to the Colonels, forming a block, five by four, between the rest of the Germans and the Barrack Two group.

 

They saluted as one, and Dingle spoke for all:  "Herr Kommandant, Herr Oberst, the Schultz Brigade reporting for duty."

 

Laughter roared out from the rows of men in Barracks Two (even though not everyone got the joke).

 

The two Colonels saluted back, a confused smile from Klink and a knowing smirk from Hogan, who answered:

 

"Thank you, gentlemen!  Unfortunately, we won't be able to have a proper induction quite yet, but as soon as it's safe, we'll have an official cashiering of those uniforms.

 

"Now, is there anyone else?  Don't be shy, we'll take all comers - even you, Mueller."  The gentleman named looked down in embarrassment, and shook his head, and several laughed, but Hogan shushed the naysayers:  "Hey, I mean it.  Everyone in this camp is welcome.  How about you, Lustig?  I'm pretty sure you've known what has been going on for a while, yet you've never ratted us out.  Why?"

 

The nondescript blond thirty-something soldier who shared secretarial chores with Hilda, surprised at being addressed, blurted out the truth:  "Because you have never allowed harm to come to anyone in this camp, not even your enemies.  And I have seen how the Third Reich deals with even those who are supposed to be friends.  But how can I help you?  I am not brave, and prefer to keep out of the way of the madmen."

 

"There is always something you can do, even if it's only doing your normal clerical duties.  Keeping this camp running smoothly will still be a large part of our routine, and any help will be deeply appreciated."

 

"Then if there is a place for me, I will gladly join you, Sir." 

 

Lustig stepped forward, and five others clerks joined him.  Haas, a young man as jumpy as his rabbit namesake, spoke for the group:  "We are no heroes, but living with your luck is still safer that the Russian Front."

 

With this, another sixteen men stepped forward, in twos and threes, all agreed; life was uncertain, but they would be more certain of life with Colonel Hogan than against him.

 

The rest looked at each other.  No one wanted to speak, not even Mueller.  But before Gruber could take over, Battling Bruno stepped forward:  "Herr Oberst, we are grateful, truly.  We may not agree, but we know that no one else, not any other military, Axis or Allied, would make such an offer...and if they did, we would not be assured of their bond.  Please, but we cannot accept.  We have friends, family, we cannot turn our backs, or disgrace their memories." 

 

While not the most eloquent speech, Hogan understood what Bruno was drive at:  "I understand.  I respect your choice and  I give you my word; you are all safe here.  You are all officially protected prisoners of war under the Geneva Convention, and from now on, you will be the Neutrals.  We will only take those precautions that are necessary for your protection and that of the rest of the camp."

 

Gruber spoke up: "On behalf of the remaining men, I accept your terms, and give you our word: we will say nothing, we will not escape and we will cause no trouble."

 

"Good enough for me.  Thank you, all of you.  Captain Dingle will be your Liaison to me, while Captain Gruber will answer directly to Kommandant Klink.  You remain in your current barracks, in your current bunks.  In lieu of Red Cross packages, you will keep your ration cards and pay, and be allowed to send money back home.  You'll be fed like the rest of us, but hopefully that will mean that we all eat better, especially with LeBeau doing the cooking."

 

A loud cheer went up from all, and LeBeau, (quite modestly) stepped forward and took a bow.

 

"Ok ok pipe down fellas!  We'll be establishing a new routine within the next few days, so bear with us.  Meanwhile, Schultz has a list of all those who will be 'acting Luftwaffe' and will set out preliminary duty rosters right after breakfast.  The rest will get their assignments from their Barracks Chiefs as usual. 

 

"Remember, the community leaders will be here at noon; the Kommandant and I will be accepting their surrender then, and I want everyone to continue to look sharp for the ceremony.  Until then, DISMISSED!"

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx     

 

December 1, 1944, Quarter before Noon  
Special Assembly, Main Compound

Stalag 13

 

The Stage was set; colorful red, white and blue bunting (standing for the United States, Great Britain and France) were predominant, but there was enough material in black, red and yellow to make three small pre-war German flags, "in memory of the time before the Nazis came" said Langenscheidt, as he folded them reverently, speaking to his fellow workers on the dais.  

 

Garlotti, positioning the last of the chairs, nodded:  "It's a nice touch.  Kinda like giving folks back their homes after a bad storm, you know?"

 

When he was met with a blank stare, Garlotti elaborated:  "Ya know, my dad runs the pizza parlor in Newark, right?  Well, I'm not much for cooking, can't boil water, so I'm in construction with my uncle.  We do a lot of jobs in the City, mostly Staten Island, and one day, we work on this house where the people, the whole neighborhood, got flooded out.  Lost most everything.  But when we get started, as bad as the damage was, we got there in time, see?  Before the water could set in and rot everything.  So we're able to save the upstairs, and we found the lady's wedding dress, just wet and dirty, and my mom cleaned it real good, and sewed the seed pearls back, and you shoudda seen the lady's face...." Garlotti trails off, lost in the memory, until Langenscheidt's 'harumph'  brought him back to the topic at hand.  "And well, the look on your face, just now, reminded me of that.  How those folks felt, getting back something they thought they'd lost forever, you know?"

 

"Yes, I can see that.  All the trouble and loss, all the worry, and then to find something precious, safely back, yes, I can see that," Langenscheidt said thoughtfully.  He looked around and added, "It appears that we are finished, with time to spare."

 

"With all these goldbrickers?  How could we miss?"  

 

Before, the confused German Corporal could ask for an explanation, a shout from the Kommandantur interrupted and the workers scrambled to clean up and clear out.  

 

"Hurry Karl, we need to make sure we are in the new formation for the visitors.  After all, we are German, and the first appearance of the Schultz Brigade should not be tardy!" yelled Dingle.

 

Laughter rang out as the men ran to complete their tasks.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Inside the Kommandantur, the mayors and the chief persons of the 3 closest towns to Stalag 13, Hammelburg, Mecklenberg and Flensheim, were absorbing the details of the very dangerous game they would now be openly playing with the Gestapo:

 

"Gentlemen and Ladies, we appreciate you all coming here today.  We'll have our little ceremony in a few minutes, but my real reason for asking you all to come today is to co-ordinate the Resistance among you all in ways that the Nazis won't expect.  I'm sure everyone has heard of what happened in Belgium and the Netherlands when people celebrated a little too soon."  His audience nodded solemnly; they had all heard of the reprisals that the Gestapo meted out once the Allies had retreated or failed to arrive at a town in time.  

 

Hogan continued: "The Allies are doing their best to move forward, but it's not going to be easy.  We have to anticipate that Patton, Montgomery and the rest will not be in the area until spring, so we have to hold on 'til then.  And that means hiding in plain sight."

 

"But how are we to do that?  

 

 

 

"We trust you, Colonel, and we will do as you say," says Karl Berger, a longtime friend, Resistance Leader and the new burgermeister of  Mecklenberg.

 

"Then let's adjourn to the stage and we'll have our ceremony, followed by a luncheon by one of the finest French chefs in Germany."

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N:  

 

"The Natives are getting restless,"  is not original to me, nor is it so old that it's a proverb attributable to no one; phrase comes from the 'Island of Lost Souls', 1932 the first film adaptation of the HG Wells novel, 'The Island of Dr. Moreau' (1896), so clearly Hogan not only could use it, he's doing what many of us do, quote our favorite lines from the movies.

 

"O ye of little faith" is Matthew 8:26 from the King James version of the New Testament

 

Kinch does call Hogan a 'diabolical genius' in at least one episode, if anyone knows which one, I'd be grateful for the reference.


End file.
